


A Sandstorm; I Rage

by Biggest_Oof



Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Anakin Skywalker Needs a Hug, Episode: s04e15 Deception, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Rako Hardeen Arc (Star Wars: Clone Wars), That's Not How The Force Works (Star Wars), eventually, this gets a little dark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-18 09:09:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28864572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Biggest_Oof/pseuds/Biggest_Oof
Summary: Anakin Skywalker moves on, even if he doesn’t want to, even if each breath is agony. Even if his pain is caused by unknown deception.Around him, a sandstorm builds.
Relationships: Anakin Skywalker & Ahsoka Tano, Obi-Wan Kenobi/Anakin Skywalker
Comments: 23
Kudos: 196





	1. a death, a deception

**Author's Note:**

> tw: self-harm, eating disorders, suicidal thoughts

No.

This isn’t happening.

(It is, it is, it is)

Ahsoka looks up at him, big eyes eclipsing her face, drenched in tears. In her arms Obi-Wan is still. Unmoving, un-breathing. He’s dead, Obi-Wan is dead. It’s true, his heart doesn’t beat.

(No, it’s not true, but Anakin doesn’t know that.)

The police sirens are blaring behind him, red and blue flashing, but none of it matters, because his Master is dead in his padawan’s arms, and Anakin’s worst nightmares have come to fruition.

Anakin picks up his best friend's body, and starts walking. He’ll have to tell the council, be there for Ahsoka. She’s just 15, she shouldn’t have to bear this alone. She won’t, Anakin won’t let her. 

They’ll have to arrange a funeral. He starts thinking of guests, Satine, Padme, the council, the entire kriffing 212th at the very least. Anakin will be there too. It still hasn’t sunk in yet, though.

No.

This isn’t happening.

(It is, it is, it is)

-

Anakin doesn’t speak for three days. When he arrives at the temple, Obi-Wan’s body limp in his hold, Windu and Koon are there to greet them. It doesn’t register. They relieve him of the corpse. Ahsoka is still sobbing.

The council expects anger.

They don’t receive it.

When Anakin does speak, it’s to comfort Ahsoka. To hold her, murmur lullabies into her ear, listen to her. He makes her run through forms until she can finally sleep, makes sure she eats at least a little, drinks water. Anakin soothes her nightmares, lets her dirty his robes. 

Anakin thought he would be furious, but he isn’t. This feeling he can’t describe has come to nestle in his chest. He cares for Snips, but not himself. Anakin thought he would shatter into pieces, but he doesn’t. He goes on with life, even though every step he takes is agony.

It’s the same schedule as before, but with the ghost of someone lingering. Their bond is severed, a familiar comfort left as static, not that Anakin expected it to be intact. He trains Ahsoka, trains himself, visits the Chancellor, reports to the council when they ask him to, wash, rinse, repeat.

The council is surprised, to say the least.

“Dealing well, you are.” Master Yoda tells him during one of his reports, “expected… different reaction, we did.”

“Thank you, Master.” The word tastes wrong in his mouth.

“Escaped, Rako Hardeen has, with two others. On alert, we must be.”

“Understood. May I be excused? My padawan needs to sharpen her Jar'kai technique.”

“Yes, Skywalker, you may go.” Windu sighs. Anakin leaves without another word.

It’s during the night that his emotions leak. Anakin dreams in plasma colors, saccharine voices echoing off of hollow walls. Obi-Wan appears, staring at him. He never says anything, because when Obi-Wan opens his mouth, blood pours out, flooding the entire dream with red, red, red.

Anakin always wakes up crying.

The Chancellor tries to push his anger, need for revenge. He tells him about vengeance, how good it feels, tells him where the sniper has escaped to. Anakin is too tired and empty to care, but he thanks Palpatine with a plaster smile and tells Snips about Hardeen’s location. Neither of them really want to go.

Sometimes, Anakin will look at the stars and wonder if Obi-Wan is happy now. He’s staying at Padme’s, can’t bear to be in the place where Obi-Wan and him both lived, together, like nothing bad could ever happen in their little apartment. Anakin had showed up on her doorstep, face pale and hands shaking.

“Can I stay here for a little while? I can’t be where…. he was.” 

“Oh Ani,” she had exhaled “Of course you can.”

He and Padme sit together and watch space operas and cry, eat chocolates that opposing senators send her when they want a bill signed, talk about anything other than the gaping hole next to Anakin.

Padme is amazing. She doesn’t let him wallow, doesn’t babysit him either. But she gets it, he knows she does. Padme has to go on too, has an entire planet depending on her. Padme is so much better than he will ever be.

But.

So was Obi-Wan.

It hurts, and yet Anakin goes on, even when he doesn’t want to. 

(He doesn’t know that somewhere out there, Obi-Wan Kenobi is increasingly worried, because Anakin is many things, but patient is not one of them. Obi-Wan frets that his former padawan hasn’t tried to get his revenge, that the Force feels so desperately sad, trembling when he reaches out for it. 

Earthquakes erupt through it, it screams and sobs and feels empty, and Obi-Wan is terrified, because Anakin is nowhere to be found, yet all around him. The Force hisses at him, nips at his feet and calls him liar, liar, liar and Obi-Wan knows that Anakin is dying.)

-

Somewhere in the shadows of the Jedi Temple, two Masters meet. Their voices are hushed, tones frantic, because for the first time in their long lives, they have no idea what to do.

Anakin Skywalker permeates the temple like a ghost. His face is gaunt, figure slimmer than it was before his Master’s death. The Force that once danced around him is decrepit, hollow as his blue eyes. The younglings have taken to calling him “the lost padawan”, and though it’s unseemly, the Masters are inclined to agree with them.

“We expected anger, not whatever this is. We have to alter the plan, so much of it depended on Skywalker’s reaction and this… won’t do.”

“Change, we cannot. Too far deep, Obi-Wan is.”

“I don’t like this. It’s not like Skywalker to just do what we say. Somethings very wrong with him.” Mace exclaims, pacing back and forth.

“Lost, the Force is. Bitter, his command on it is. More powerful, Skywalker is, than we originally thought.”

“It’s mad at us”, Mace hisses “We need to do something.”

“Interfere, we mustn’t. Up to Kenobi, this mission is.” Yoda states, though his face is downtrodden while he speaks.

“The Festival is in a week. Skywalker has to make it until then.”

“He will. Caring for Padawan Tano, Skywalker is. Affected by Obi-Wan’s death, she was. Hold on for her, Skywalker will.”

“I hope you’re right.” Mace sighs into the palm of his hand.

The Force swirls around them, periwinkle with mourning and red with rot.

-

Anakin finds the razor a week before the Festival. It’s silver, gleams in the light of Padme’s bathroom. It calls to him. 

He hasn’t been eating much. Anakin knows it shows, in his weight and his eyes, but every time he brings food to his lips he feels guilty for eating it. Anakin still eats in front of people, but when the night is dark and all is quiet, he creeps to the ‘fresher and retches it up.

When he finds the razor, Anakin is shaving. Padme’s with Bail Organa and her senator friends, and Ahsoka is with Master Plo Koon, so Anakin is alone. He wonders how it would feel to not be guilty anymore, if this would help.

Mom used to tell him stories of great sandstorms. It was said that when the Depur first enslaved Ar-Amu’s people, she became so furious that the winds she no longer controlled moved of their own accord. The devastated Ar-Amu raged a storm of sand that lasted for days, starving everyone, blinding the Masters.

It was said that each time a slave was killed, a storm would come to Tatooine in mourning. Anakin remembers watching the storm, and being it. When mom died, he became the storm, massacring the Tuskens in his pain and grief.

He is the storm now, but he only rages on himself. 

Anakin roams the gardens sometimes, when he’s not busy breathing through waves of grief and emptiness, and sits in the place he and Obi-Wan frequented.  
He looks at the flowers, picks them and braids them in his hair. It feels good, and goodness is scarce these days.

Tears drip down his face without his permission. The world moves on, Anakin moves on, and yet it seems like each step he takes crumbles to ash beneath him. Was it that long ago, when Obi-Wan was alive? It’s only been a month, he muses, and yet so much has changed.

There are lines on his thighs where there used to be smooth skin, and a frigid hole where there used to be warmth.

Ahsoka’s nightmares are less frequent now. She’s moving on, blossoming again. She starts calling him Skyguy, testing the waters, and he says Snips in return. She eats without prodding, drinks without hesitance. Anakin is still there for the bad days, but Snips has light in her eyes again.

His dreams are still of Obi-Wan. In them, his Master shakes his shoulders, snaps his neck, begs him to end it, absolve his guilt, be a failure no longer. The dark caverns of his sleep echo around him, calling him coward. Anakin agrees.

He wants to die.

He can’t.

One more week until the Festival.

-

Chancellor Palpatine feels the way the Force ripples. Bitterness, grief and guilt come in acrid waves. But there is no anger. The seeds of darkness have been planted, and yet there is no fruit bared as of yet.

Palpatine snorts. The council feeds right from his hands, killing the Chosen’s light day by day, and yet Anakin clings to it. The will of the young one is strong, reverberating through all those force sensitive, unyielding, and yet…

Anakin Skywalker’s will bends to that of Obi-Wan Kenobi. The foolish man doesn’t know what heart he holds, how Palpatine seeks to rip it away from him. Anakin is dying at the hands of this sniveling creature, starved of kindness. It’s almost too easy to slip under Kenobi’s nose and pluck Anakin from him.

But there is no anger.

And at this, Palpatine seethes. This boy he wants, so powerful and intelligent, needs anger in order to Fall. There is nothing akin to it either, no resentment or jealousy, just pure, unadulterated guilt for a foolish man faking his own death.

Skywalker will destroy himself because of this plot. He’s well on his way, Palpatine knows, though he tries to hide it. Kenobi is killing him, unknowingly, and there. Is. No. Anger.

Palpatine scowls, before brushing off the nonexistent dirt on his robes. Skywalker will bow to him, eventually. This silly escapade is but another brick in the wall. Everything will go as planned.

The Force wills it to.

-

Naboo is as beautiful as he remembers it to be. The lush green forests surround the ship as they land, shimmering with life. It’s weird to know they’re here to stop an assassination plot.

Anakin knows, logically, that Obi-Wan isn’t on this planet. But something in the force feels… off, raining with his Master’s force presence like he never died. He feels a headache coming on. Maybe it’s because he hasn’t eaten for two days. That’s probably it.

Palpatine, as always, seems delighted by his presence, as Anakin is led towards the location of the Festival, Padme in tow. He babbles on about a feast Anakin didn’t know about, buzzing words filling Anakin’s head like a wasp.

At least Palpatine appears to be having a good time.

Windu gives him glances when he thinks Anakin isn’t looking, face equal parts guarded and guilty. The Force whispers to him, imploring him to see, but what he can’t discern.

Ahsoka feels it too, he can tell, eyes troubled and lips pursed. Something isn’t right here. Part of Anakin wants to investigate, while the other larger part wants to lay down and never wake up. It’s a common feeling these days.

As they settle down in the quarters, adjusting their armor and unpacking, Ahsoka asks him if he feels it.

“It’s like Obi-Wan is here…. but he can’t be. He’s…”

“I know, Snips, I feel it too. Might just be residual feelings from last time we were here.” Anakin replies.

“You don’t believe that, though.”

“... No, I don’t.”

It’s at the banquet that everything goes to bantha shit.

Anakin is pretending to eat when he hears the gunshot. The Chancellor is swarmed by bounty hunters and Jedi, all scrambling in a mad dash trying to grab him first.

Anakin fights and fights until he can’t anymore, until all of his opponents sprawl across marble, knocked out. That’s when he sees him.

Rako Hardeen.

He and Cad Bane are busy fighting each other, but Anakin knows that face, saw it on wanted posters and in his nightmares. Anakin knows it’s him.

His first priority is the Chancellor, but Windu’s already on that. Next, Snips. Anakin tries to find her through the chaos, and when he does sticky sweet relief pours down the back of his throat. She’s safe, she’s safe, she’s safe.

So, that leaves Anakin with nothing to do except watch Bane be arrested and Hardeen… not?

What the kriff.

The man stiffens as Anakin and Ahsoka approach, looking vaguely nauseous at the sight of them. Good. But then, but then…

“Anakin?”

And oh, he may not know that voice, but he knows that sound. It’s the one Obi-Wan makes after a battle where they’ve taken heavy losses, the one made when he found Anakin’s arm cut off, the one he made minutes before he died.

No.

This isn’t happening.

(It is, it is, it is)

Anakin grabs Ahsoka by the arm, and runs.


	2. a duty, a duel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anakin doesn’t want to talk about this. He wants to forget this ever happened, forget that his trust has been shattered. The storm is finally angry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: self-harm, suicidal thoughts, eating disorders

Anakin runs, speeding down hallways and zig zagging through confused passersby. Ahsoka runs with him, tears streaming down her young face, and he knows that he’s making the same expression. They make it to their rooms, stumbling, disbelieving.

Was that really him?

And if it was…

“I can’t kriffing believe it!” Ahsoka rages, coming to the same conclusion Anakin has just reached. “How could he do that to us? How could he let this happen? What in all the sith hells lead him to make such a bad plan?”

She rants, and Anakin listens with half an ear, too busy trying to comprehend the events of today.

Obi-Wan is not dead.

The Force howls around him, outraged, seething with raw anger at such a betrayal. It pulsates through his head, demands retribution, revenge, and oh, Anakin is no longer void of anger.

“He betrayed me.” Anakin whispers, voice trembling.

“Skyguy?”

“He betrayed us.”

“Yeah. It seems that way.”

Shit. The lines marking his thighs burn, saliva building at the back of his throat. His eyes leak without his permission, his hands form into fists, servos in his mechanical arm whirring from the strain.

“How could he?”

“I… don’t know, Anakin. I don’t know.”

Anakin wants to destroy something. He wants to be the sandstorm, he wants to feel the blood on his teeth, wants to rip, maul, anything to take away this bone deep hurt, this ache that’s settled in his core. 

Obi-Wan is not dead. But he let them believe he was, let them suffer. Did he think they’d be okay with it? Anakin is dizzy, headache forming behind his eyelids. Did Obi-Wan think he’d be alright being used like that? 

Anakin doesn’t want to believe this was Obi-Wan’s idea, but even if it wasn’t, he went along with it. Is this punishment for his attachment? Is this what everyone thinks of his feelings, is he so insignificant that it’s okay for his Master’s boots to crush them?

A beast stirs in his belly.

If this is what trust gains him, who can he actually believe?

-

Obi-Wan knows he’s fucked up the moment he says Anakin’s name. His former padawan looks at him with mistrustful eyes, calculating, searching. Obi-Wan watches as the pieces click into place, a wounded breath releasing from Anakin’s chest.

His apprentice staggers back, and before Obi-Wan can try to explain, repair some of the damage, Anakin is gone, a ghost, Ahsoka nowhere to be found either. The Force turns a deep dark red with anger, malice and hatred pouring from it like pus from a lanced wound.

Mace gives him a shrug and a sympathetic eyebrow raise, but does nothing except haul Cad Bane away for intake. Obi-Wan is on his own it seems. This is his mess to clean up.

Anakin had felt off the entire mission. His force presence was null, empty, so unlike the vibrant man Obi-Wan knew. And seeing Anakin today had done nothing to reassure him. The way he had looked…

His friend has always been slight, lean muscles and tall stature cutting a willow figure, but this isn’t that. Anakin was practically gaunt, eyes sunken in and rimmed with dark bags, robes just beginning to swallow him. The golden skin was paler than snow, and the eyes, the eyes, were void.

An acrid feeling worms it’s way to his chest. Obi-Wan knows that his death would affect Anakin, but this is not the reaction he expected. Anakin had always lashed out when in pain, anger came easier to him than anything else. He snarled and keened like a wild animal, bit you if you got too close, but this Anakin didn’t.

He just seemed so desperately sad.

That night, in his quarters, sleep doesn’t come to him. Obi-Wan can’t meditate, can’t fall into anything remotely peaceful. It’s like the Force has been pulled tight, quivering with energy waiting to be released.

Obi-Wan remembers when Anakin was little, he would know when Obi-Wan had a nightmare. His padawan never asked what they were about, never tried to talk to him about it. Obi-Wan would tremble awake, gasping and crying, and Anakin would come to him.

He’d curl up beside his Master, bring Obi-Wan’s hand to his little heartbeat, and breathed for him until he could do it himself. It was soothing, a kindness that Obi-Wan had never encountered. He asked Anakin how he knew, once.

“I’m used to it.” Anakin had answered, hands soothing through Obi-Wan’s hair. “People on Tatooine had a lot of nightmares, especially the little ones. I’ve always been able to sense it. The dep- the masters didn’t like the whimpering, so I’d stop the dreams before they could come.”

Obi-Wan had sat in awe of this little boy, who’s eyes were old. That little boy who had few options, slave or Jedi, chosen one or failure. Anakin knew of things far beyond his years, had experienced them, and he still found the compassion to creep into Obi-Wan’s chambers, cup of tea in hand, ready to comfort.

Obi-Wan misses those days.

He misses Anakin.

Yeah, he’s really, really fucked up.

-

They meet the next morning. Anakin trails behind the Chancellor, posture stiff, eyes averted. It hurts to walk, his self-inflicted wounds pulling with every step he takes, but Anakin keeps breathing and keeps drifting off of the high.

Obi-Wan is there, still with that stupid face and stupid outfit. Anakin trembles with anger, taking deep breaths as he tries to contain himself. Next to him stands Windu, who looks mildly concerned, which is a first.

Eventually Palpatine and Windu start talking, debriefing after the disaster of last night. Dooku is still near, probably, and Anakin has to stay with the Chancellor as a bodyguard until they’re off Naboo. He’s not really paying attention though.

The thoughts of his mind are dark. Anakin had slipped into the ‘fresher last night, Ahsoka passed out on their extravagant beds. His grip on life was slipping, looking into the mirror, at his arms and wondering.

It’d be so easy. But he can’t, not until Ahsoka is knighted. He would never do that to her. It’s not like Obi-Wan would care, he’d made that crystal clear, and the council would be disappointed, Padme would be devastated but…

No. He’s not a coward, he’ll wait until Ahsoka is knighted and the war is over and everyone finally leaves him. Anakin knows they will, it’s inevitable, but he satisfied the need to hurt with three cuts instead of ending it.

It’ll have to do for now.

It appears the conversation has come to an end. He apologizes for spacing out, Obi-Wan shooting him a worried look that Anakin ignores, and they begin to walk back from the ship when he feels a hand on his wrist.

He snaps around, looking to where Obi-Wan has grabbed him. He opens his mouth to speak, but Obi-Wan beats him to it.

“Can we talk?” He mutters quietly, even though Windu and Palpatine are far out of earshot.

“What’s there to talk about?” Anakin responds, venom and bile on the tip of his tongue.

“I’m sorry, Anakin. I risked everything for a stupid mission-”

Anakin snorts.

“-and I know that I need to make it up to you.”

“Yeah well, it doesn’t matter anymore. You can’t make it up to me, or Snips, so I guess your risk didn’t exactly pay off. Are we done here?”

“Anakin, I…”

“What? You think that I’m going to just forgive you? I trusted you, and you used it against me for a chance to get all buddy buddy with Cad kriffing Bane! I don’t want to talk to you, so let go of my goddamn hand or I’ll make you.” Anakin snarls, tears building at his eyes.

“Anakin, please, I’m so sorry. I know I messed up, but I did what I needed to do.” Obi-Wan pleads.

“Good for you. Now let. Go.”

His hand is released, feeling branded by the touch of a traitor.

Anakin doesn’t wait for any more apologies. He catches up to the Chancellor, leaving Obi-Wan standing, wilting, on the platform.

He has work to do.

-

Palpatine can feel it. The anger is finally here, and it is strong. Skywalker is on the edge, and all it will take to Fall is one more push. His patience is paying off, that fool Kenobi playing right into the jaws of the Sith.

Palpatine almost pities him. Almost.

Anakin prowls behind him, Force walking in turn of each foot stomp. The boy exudes power, sticky maroon sweltering any force sensitives thoughts with discontent. He knows Skywalker doesn’t trust the council, but now he doesn’t trust anyone.

Sometimes Palpatine wonders if the council knows just how much he despises them. He tries to hide it behind trite platitudes and gratitude, but they must feel how much he wants to crush them?

Then again, they haven’t noticed him sink his claws into Anakin, drawing blood and molding the Chosen One to his will. Palpatine tires of this war, but the ending is in sight, and this little escapade has just expedited the process.

This is Palpatine's game, and all of his little pawns don’t even know that they’re playing it for him.

-

As soon as Anakin enters his suite, he heads for the toilet and vomits. He retches out what little he consumed at dinner and breakfast, sobbing at the taste left in his mouth. It’s then he realizes Ahsoka is still here, and she’s with Padme.

Shit.

“Ani? What’s going on in there?” 

“Nothing…”

“I’m coming in.”

Padme, in her usual form, notices that he’s locked the door. She considers kicking it down, but settles for a key in Ahsoka’s hand.

Anakin hears the door creak open.

“Ani, why are you sick? Do you have food poisoning, Ahsoka get me-”

“Saw… Obi-Wan.”

“Oh.”

“He’s alive, Padme. He tricked us, went undercover. Apparently my reaction is what sold it to Dooku. He lied to me, to us and today he tried to ask for forgiveness and I can’t. I can’t give it to him.”

“Obi-Wan’s alive?” Her face breaks, anger and sadness warring across it.

“Yeah.”

“Oh, Anakin…”

“That doesn’t explain the vomiting, Skyguy.” Ahsoka says bluntly.

“I just didn’t feel good, okay? It’s been a rough month.”

“When did you find this out? And where’s Obi-Wan, I need to deck him in the face.” Padme seethes, anger boiling just like his.

“Last night, at the Festival.”

“Seriously? What was he thinking! I can’t believe he would do that. Bantha piece of shit-”

“What did he say, Anakin?” Ahsoka questions.

“He said he was sorry. A lot. But that he did what he had to do.”

“I can’t believe him.”

“Neither can I.”

“Are you sure you’re up for guarding the Chancellor, Skyguy? I can take over if you need to rest.”

“Thanks, Snips, but I’m okay.” He smiles weakly.

“Okay…” she says, unconvinced.

Anakin washes up, changes, and listens to Padme rant about the audacity of men for half an hour. He’s lucky, but that was close.

The look on Ahsoka’s face tells him it was too close.

-

Dooku is here.

Wonderful.

Anakin dismantles the droids first, which is unsurprisingly, the easy part. He leaps across the table to engage the Count, yelling at the Chancellor to run while he still can.

Anakin's rage is seeping through the shields, but he can’t let it show just yet. Dooku taunts him, refuses to duel, instead throwing all the objects he can at Anakin. He slips into his Djem So, feels the routine of it take over. He has to focus.

He stabs his blade through the chair. Breathe. Adjusts grips and thrusts. Breathe. He’s thrown back, and gets up. Breathe, breathe, breathe.

Swing, jab, parry. Dooku retreats where Anakin advances. The escape is nearing, but he can’t let that happen, won’t let that happen, so when he sees an opportunity he seizes it, grasping at Dooku’s throat. He thinks he sees Palpatine grin.

Dooku struggles, but Anakin leans forward, doesn’t budge an inch. His face is locked in a snarl, and the Count almost looks afraid of him. That is until the Sith Lightning is released from Dooku's fingertips.

That kriffing stings.

He pushes through it. He swings, advances, footwork still impeccable. Anakin is nearing victory, can feel it in his bones, and the Force around him begs to be released, to bite, to attack.

“You have much hate in you, Skywalker.” Dooku huffs, panting while jabbing at him with his saber.

“Aw Count, how you flatter me.”

“I wonder if it’s because of your dear Obi-Wan? His death was over exaggerated, obviously.”

“Obi-Wan has nothing to do with this!”

“But isn’t it? You see, Skywalker,” Dooku explains “the Jedi don’t trust you. Your Master doesn’t trust you. How could you be their savior when you’re so weak?”

“I am not weak!”

“Yes you are. You can’t even protect one Chancellor from an old man. I think that taking just your hand this time would be too little. Maybe I’ll send your corpse to Obi-Wan, let him pretend to mourn. We all know the truth, though…”

The Force pushes against his brain, and Anakin lets it in. He will defeat Dooku, even if it means crushing his skull on the side of a ship.

Around him, it swirls, and he revels in the power. He drops his lightsaber.

“Given up so soon, Skywalker?”

“Not really.”

He is Ar-Amu. He is the sandstorm. The winds around him whistle, and the clouds are enveloped by dry tears. He is the sandstorm.

Dooku lifts into the air, writhing against an unseen force. Anakin stares at him, anger seeping in his pores, it’d be so easy just to crush him. So easy just to…

No.

He will not give in. The Force recedes from his mind. Dooku runs, ditching the Chancellor, tears towards his ship and bolts. Good. 

Anakin starts to feel dizzy. The world is spinning around him, his body aches, he feels dead already. His body is giving up on him, he is not the sandstorm, but he is, is he watching it, is he blinded? Anakin can’t tell anymore.

“ANAKIN!” A voice screams, but Anakin is too busy trying to stay upright to see who it belongs to.

Hands touch his body right as he crumples.

He’s so tired, it’ll be fine to rest for a while.

Anakin lets the tide pull him under, the sands burying him in their winds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. I promise there’s a happy ending.


	3. a dune, a dawn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan has pretended he doesn’t care for all of his life. The sands envelop him, howling their anger, and Obi-Wan wants to scream, but all that comes out is his guilt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tw: self-harm, suicidal thoughts, eating disorders

Obi-Wan’s mind goes blank when he sees Anakin collapse.

The Force had surged just seconds ago, shrieking out in his mind, making him run faster, get to Anakin and Dooku and the Chancellor. Something is wrong, Obi-Wan can tell, and the way his heart races while he sprints isn’t just from exertion, but pure terror.

The sight he gets isn’t a pretty one. Dooku is writhing in the air, Palpatine looking on in amazement, and Anakin…

Tears are dripping down his face, face scrunched in pain, hands at his sides but still shaking. Anakin slowly releases Dooku, calming himself, and Dooku breaks away, forgetting about the Chancellor.

Obi-Wan can’t bring himself to care. All he sees is Anakin, trembling, hurting, and he needs to make his presence known, to help him.

“ANAKIN!”

His apprentice crumples, out cold, Obi-Wan forgets about the Chancellor, about Rako Hardeen and Dooku and the mess he’s made.

Anakin needs him.

“Anakin, Ani, wake up, come on now, you have to wake up, breathe dearest, I need you, wake up please…” he mumbles frantically, shaking Anakin's limp form. He’s alive, but his breathing is shallow, and his face is pale, and oh no, Anakin, please…

Obi-Wan barks at Palpatine, telling him to call for a medic. While he does so, Obi-Wan cradles Anakin, tracing the lines of his face, clinging to his breaths.

The Force had been so angry, it had whipped around him and nipped at his brain. Dooku had been kriffing leviating, and Anakin hadn’t even been lifting a finger. Darkness was shrouding everything in a cloak, but Anakin hadn’t let it envelop him. 

Obi-Wan hurts to think of his apprentice’s state of mind.

“I love you, dearest, I’m so sorry, I’m so, so sorry Ani, just stay here, come now, just stay here. I’m not leaving you, I promise, I’m so sorry, just stay please, please, I love you!” Obi-Wan’s voice feels thick, and tears threaten to spill.

He hums, rocks Anakin in his arms, holds tight, and feels so goddamn guilty.

“-here, they’re here! Skywalker’s injured, he needs immediate attention.” Palpatine and his swarm of medics have arrived, pulling Anakin from him, hooking him up to tubes and masks, checking his pulse.

Obi-Wan can’t find it in himself to let go of Anakin’s hand, even when a medic glares at him for it. He’s not leaving, not again.

Anakin is lifted onto a stretcher, carried away through the halls, medical jargon firing back and forth, the Chancellor trailing not far behind. Obi-Wan jogs to keep up with them, watching as Anakin swings with each sway of movement.

They’ll be transferring him to Coruscant. Obi-Wan had nearly forgotten their scheduled departure, what with the chaos of this evening, but apparently it’s a schedule going undeterred, no matter that Anakin needs a machine to breathe for him. The Chancellor’s too at risk here.

Obi-Wan wants to scream. He doesn’t.

They board the plane. Ahsoka doesn’t look at him, too busy fussing over Anakin, but her bitterness is strong in her force presence. Padme looks about ready to murder him, but her eyes soften slightly when she sees Obi-Wan cradling Anakin’s hand in his own.

Mace just gives him another sympathetic shrug. 

They fly back to Coruscant, no idea of what happens next.

-

Once, back when Anakin was 16, Obi-Wan caught him sneaking to a brothel in the downtown of Coruscant. Obi-Wan had been upset, but most of all, he had been confused. He became more of both when Anakin showed him his savings, food, and a first aid kit piled into a makeshift backpack.

“What is all of this for, Padawan? What in all of the sith hells could possess you to-”

“They need help.”

“Who needs help?”

“The people down at the brothel.” Anakin said simply, as though Obi-Wan was being extra dense in his thinking.

“Anakin, how exactly-”

“One of the girls works at the temple. I ran into her, we talked, and decided I could help. Now can I go?”

“No, you may not, not until I get a more substantial answer than that.”

“It’s just…. I thought things would be better here. And they are, for me, but for some people it’s exactly like Tatooine. And the Jedi don’t even care, they employ those same people. I don’t get it!”

“Anakin, you have to understand that the Jedi can’t interfere with business practices like… that. We’re for more-”

“What, we’re for people who have status? What about these people! It’s said the Republic outlawed slavery, but mom and I still had bombs in our necks! Jedi are keepers of the peace, but they don’t care when people like Mishu have to endure violence to their bodies for a paycheck! She’s 12, Master, and frankly I don’t care if this goes against your stupid code because these people need help and nobody wants to give it!”

“Padawan… it’s not that we don’t help, it’s just hard when the Senate doesn’t want us to.”

“Oh, so now the Jedi and the Senate are interchangeable.”

“No, that’s not-”

“Really, because it sounds like you’re admitting something there.”

“Anakin, enough! Stop acting like you’re the expert on these things, I’m far older than you, and you-”

“I am an expert on these things, though.”

“... what?”

“I know exactly how much the Republic cares. You know, back when I worked for a man without pay. Because I was a slave, just like my mother, and her mother, and her mother before her. I come from a line of slaves, I speak the tongue of them, I know about things that you never will. I have seen things that you never will.”

“Anakin, I-”

“Every day of my life was spent in a body that didn’t belong to me. And every day I prayed that body would become mine. And every day, your Jedi and your Senate did nothing, do nothing. So don’t you dare lecture me on what should be helped and what shouldn’t, because from your point of view, I should’ve been left with that bomb on my neck.”

“I don’t believe that, Padawan, not at all.”

“Sure seems like it. Now, I’m heading to the brothel. Don’t try to stop me.”

Obi-Wan didn’t. He sat there, dumbfounded, while Anakin collected his backpack and headed out to visit Mishu and his other friends that Obi-Wan hadn’t known about. 

Looking back, it almost seems like Anakin was right. They used clones for their war, bred them for combat and infused loyalty in their blood, but never gave them a chance to be anything else. The 212th hadn’t even been allowed to come to his funeral, fake though it was.

Anakin has always distrusted the council, the Senate, but for the first time, Obi-Wan wonders about Rako Hardeen and how that paranoia might hold some weight. Who exactly do the Jedi fight for?

Much like that night, Obi-Wan finds himself empty of answers.

-

They find the scars when Anakin is stripped into a hospital gown. The medics already mentioned the malnourishment, to which Padme and Ahsoka both looked grimly vindicated. Obi-Wan wonders about the story there.

But the scars…

They line Anakin’s upper thighs, exact and crisscrossing and worst of all, fresh. Obi-Wan knew his apprentice hadn’t been doing well, couldn't shake the feeling of Anakin slowly dying, but to see it like this, in pink raw scores across his skin, is harder than ever imaginable.

“Does he have a history of self-harm?”

“No.”

“A history of denying himself food or rejecting it from his body?”

“Not that I’m aware of.”

“Suicidal tendencies or thoughts?”

“He’s reckless, but that’s just… Anakin.”

“Hmm. Has ever made an attempt on his life?”

“No.”

“Thank you, Master Kenobi. We’ll know more when he wakes up.”

The medic walks off, leaving Anakin and Obi-Wan alone for the moment. Anakin looks like a baby bird under the harsh lighting, small in his bed, veins purple against stark white flesh.

Obi-Wan knows when this started. Everyone does. Ahsoka had cried and then yelled at Obi-Wan, while Padme had just yelled. Yoda looked sad, guilty even, at the sight of Anakin with evidence of cutting all over his thighs. Even Windu wasn’t unaffected.

Rako Hardeen caused this.

This is Obi-Wan’s fault.

“You’re thinking too loud.” Ahsoka is back.

“Oh, sorry. Was a little lost in thought.”

“Yeah, I could tell. He’s not doing great.”

“I know.”

“I’m still mad at you.”

“I know.”

“Look… I think you know how shitty this was. But you weren’t there to see it. Skyguy… he didn’t talk for a good while, and when he did it was to take care of me. I was in a bad place, so he made sure I was doing alright, kept me sane. And to find out he was doing this the entire time…”

Ahsoka brushes tears back from her eyes, montrails shivering at her emotions. 

“He was dead, Obi-Wan. He kept going on, but he obviously didn’t want to. The younglings were avoiding him in the halls because they’d thought Anakin would curse them on accident. So I’m kind of pissed to know that you pulled such a stunt.”

“Ahsoka,” He begins, “ I am so sorry. I’d say I never saw this coming, but I did, and I went ahead with the mission anyways. I can’t say sorry enough, but I will even if I’m never forgiven. I am so sorry, Ahsoka.”

“I know you are. I think… I think I can forgive you. I know you did what you thought was best, even if it was terrible.”

“Thank you.” Obi-Wan breathes, relieved at the notion.

“I am still angry though, you’re definitely on dirty dish duty until further notice.”

“I think I can live with that.” Obi-Wan remarks, grinning.

Yeah, he can live with that.

In front of them, Anakin’s chest rises and falls in turn with his cannula. He still has his work cut out for him, it seems.

-

Obi-Wan has loved many people, contrary to popular belief. Siri, Cerasi, Satine, and Anakin. He’s never loved anything more than he does Anakin Skywalker.

The thing about Obi-Wan Kenobi, is that all of his loves have ended in heartbreak. Noting this, it’s easy to know why he pushes Anakin away, severs their bond and fakes his death.

The Jedi have always loved drama.

Obi-Wan has denied this love for the entirety of its existence. He remembers its first sparks, just after the war had kicked up and Anakin had been Knighted for a few months already. It turned into a forest fire soon enough, the Hero With No Fear and the Negotiator, the Team, inseparable, two halves of a whole.

Obi-Wan has done many things he regrets. Loving Anakin is not one of them.

So why has acted like it? How has he failed the one who holds his heart so badly? Lines mark once smooth marble, evidence of his harm, of Obi-Wan’s utter destruction of Anakin. There are ribs where there weren’t, back when a bond shone with trust and kindness, not the odd static that corners his mind now.

How much has he missed? How much has Anakin hidden from him, thinking Obi-Wan would reject him, turn him over to an unfeeling council? How deeper has he driven the blade with his betrayal? 

The Force answers his questions, sometimes. It tells him that Anakin loves him back, that he’s been hurt more than Obi-Wan knows, that this war has left some scars, not just physical. It begs him to understand it’s child, to treat him gently, and oh, how Obi-Wan wants to.

Something in the back of his mind tells him Anakin won’t ever let himself be treated that way. 

The wounds will scar, and be permanently branded on Anakins skin. The medics treat him cautiously when they tell him the news, like Obi-Wan will explode if they speak louder than a whisper.

Oh, Anakin, he’s so sorry.

Obi-Wan Kenobi has loved many people, but never at the level that he loves Anakin Skywalker. It’s about damn time he starts showing that.

-

Palpatine doesn’t feel much these days. When the emotions come, they’re muted, bolstered and wrapped in narcissism. His moves are calculated, cold, and nobody has more patience than him.

When he is told that Skywalker will not be heading back to the front anytime soon, he is irked. But, he reminisces, this will have him far closer to Palpatine. This will be good, even if it demands altercations to his plan.

When he hears Kenobi is staying with him, Palpatine feels a surge of anger erupt through his body. The auburn haired thorn in his side can never settle, always having to keep Skywalker close by.

After Rako Hardeen, what can he expect to gain? Anakin will never trust him fully after this, Palpatine is sure of it. What game is this Jedi playing at, then? Kenobi will hinder his plans even further, unraveling any progress he gains on Skywalker. 

Palpatine growls deep in his throat, can’t compose himself for a good while after this news. It was hard enough when Skywalker was a padawan, the stupid gnat buzzing in the boy’s earshot, always protecting, even unknowingly.

And now, after Kenobi has played his part so beautifully, he has the audacity to wrench Palpatine’s work? The arrogance of Jedi is truly astounding. Skywalker was so close that night in Naboo, but he didn’t Fall. Who does Kenobi think he is, to stop the inevitable?

Anakin Skywalker will Fall. Palpatine knows it, knows it like he knows everything.

Palpatine is many things. When the emotions come, they are muted, and thus he is heartless. This is his greatest strength, and though he doesn’t know it, his greatest weakness.

-

There’s beeping in his ears when he wakes up. Anakin feels hazy, like his brain’s been shut off. His body is heavy, connected to tubes and wires, and aches with leftover pain. Where is he?

It smells like disinfectant, and the bed Anakin is laying on is unfamiliar and stiff. Oh, he’s at the hospital, probably the Halls of Healing judging by the Force presence.

Wonderful.

Anakin struggles to sit up, trying to remember what landed him here this time. There was the Festival, and Obi-Wan, Dooku’s attack and using the Force, and after that it’s all blank.

He’s probably Force exhausted. It doesn't help that Anakin hasn’t been eating, or mauling himself either. Oh wait...

Oh no.

They have to know. They have to, he’s in the hospital so they’d have checked everything over, so they know about what he’s been doing to himself. They know Anakin’s a failure, that he’s weak, they’ll never let him see anyone again and they’ll lock him up in the temple, they’ll….

“-kin, breathe. Come on dearest, it’s alright, just breathe, that’s it, you can do it.”

He knows that voice. Where does he know that voice from?

“Okay, Ani, you’re okay, in, out, come now.”

Oh. Anakin can do that. In, out, in, out. He can breathe for the voice.

His awareness comes back in stages. The band around his sheet loosens, his eyes can see again, he knows where he is.

Halls of Healing. They know about everything.

The voice belongs to Obi-Wan. He’s back to his face, beard no more than stubble and rocking a poorly advised buzz cut. There are dark circles under his eyes, and he looks like he’s seen a ghost.

“Hi.” He scrapes out, voice rough.

“Hi, Ani.”

“How long has it been?”

“Little over three days.”

“Oh.”

“Would you like some water?” When he nods, Obi-Wan shuffles over to a nearby sink. Anakin doesn’t know what to do except watch him. He drinks the water, avoiding all eye contact while he does, when Obi-Wan starts speaking.

“Anakin… I think you know that we… know. And I just wanted to tell you that we don’t see you any differently, even know that we’ve seen.”

“Okay.” He responds dully, feeling numb and melancholic all at once.

“The doctors want to talk to you about it, and… they think it’s best if both of us took some time off.”

“What? I’m fine, it’s not-”

“Dear one, we both know you’re lying. I know that this happened because of me, but they’re worried about you. Ani, did you have plans to… kill yourself?”

“It’s not like I’d actually have done it.”

“So yes?”

“I don’t know, okay! It’s always been there in the back of my brain, and it’s not like it’s ever gone away. But now I know you don’t trust me and the council doesn’t care, and Ahsoka and Padme would get over it eventually, but I’m not selfish, I’d wait until she was Knighted and-”

“Oh, Anakin.”

“I know you don’t understand, but it helps! It does, and you were the one who caused it so don’t act like you care after the fact! I know exactly what you think of me.” Anakin’s crying now, uncontrollably. It hurts to say these things, but it hurts more to know them to be true.

“Dear one… I do care. I know I haven’t shown it in the best of ways, or at all, but-”

“No you don’t! You say you do, but I’ve always known you don’t! You’ve only put up with me because of an obligation, and now that I’m a Knight you don’t have to care anymore, so you close off our bond and you join the council and YOU KRIFFING FAKE YOUR DEATH!”

Obi-Wan looks heartbroken.

“I’ve never told you, have I?” He whispers, voice thick.

“Told me what?”

“I love you, Ani.”

“No, you don’t. You can’t.”

“I do, dearest, I promise I do.” Obi-Wan affirms, and oh, they’re both crying now.

“I…”

“I am a coward, Anakin. I ran from my feelings, from you, and I caused wounds I can’t hope to fix. I’m a coward, so I went on this stupid mission knowing what it’d do to you, and I’m so, so, sorry, Ani, for putting you through this. But I love you, I do, and I’m sick of hiding it if this is the result.”

“You love me?”

“Yes, I love you, and I’m so sorry for not telling you sooner.”

He loves him. Anakin knows Obi-Wan isn’t lying, not this time, he loves him, Anakin.

“... I love you too.”

Obi-Wan looks up at him, lips opened in a gasp.

“Ani-”

He doesn’t get to finish his sentence, because Anakin swoops him into a kiss, hands raking through the peach fuzz of growing hair. His body protests, but he doesn’t care, can’t bring himself to, because the Force sings around him, finally content after so much turmoil.

Eventually they break apart, breathless and awestruck with one another. Their bond reopens, flooding with emotion, and Anakin breaks down onto sobs, surprising Obi-Wan with the force of his tears. He’s scooped up into warm arms, cradled as he weeps, and Anakin can finally move on without the hole in his heart.

Anakin has watched the sandstorm, and he has been the sandstorm, and if it has taught him one thing, it’s that eventually, the winds die down and leave golden twin suns in their wake. The Force hums around them, content, and Anakin knows that the sunrise is creeping up on them, easy to begin anew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And it’s finished! I think this might become a series, but I’m not sure quite yet, so we’ll see.

**Author's Note:**

> Not me obsessively watching Clone Wars to numb the pain of my democracy collapsing.
> 
> Works I was inspired by:
> 
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/11552400/chapters/25944642


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